


This Is the New Year

by ohmyflavors (hannibae)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alcohol, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:28:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9150772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibae/pseuds/ohmyflavors
Summary: Four times Link doesn't kiss Rhett for New Year and one time he does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is for the prompt "cold feet" for the rhink holiday ficathon!

**1.**

_(1994)_

Link prides himself on how good of a son he is. His momma always tells him she’s proud of him, brags to others that he’s well-behaved.

And he is. He tries real hard to be.

She doesn’t know everything about him, though. A man’s got to have his secrets, right? They’re all harmless, really, but he’s got some things he keeps from her, just on the principal of the fact.

Like that time he made out with Mary in the backseat of her parents car and they got caught and he was asked not to see her anymore. Or that time he and Rhett broke into a building they thought was abandoned, but turned out just to be someone’s shed.

He’s got some secrets, some things she wouldn’t be too happy with him about. But, overall, he’s a good kid, he thinks.

But, see, he’s a little drunk tonight. Heck, though, he’s sixteen, and it’s not like he’s about to get in a car with someone who’s been drinking too. He’s a good boy; he’s responsible enough to know better.

Rhett’s eyeing him like he thinks he’s gonna do something stupid, though. With good reason, Link thinks, as he’s been known to do some stupid stuff in large groups of people. He’s gotta show off a little. It’s just who he is at the end of the day.

Tonight isn’t about that. It’s about celebrating, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Even though his hands are so cold he can’t feel the can he’s holding anymore, and his legs feel heavy, he’s celebrating the end of a year. He raises his beer whenever someone whose face he can’t place right now raises theirs, clinking them together happily, and turns to give a pointed look to Rhett.

There’s a puff of breath on his ear before he hears Rhett shouting, “Don’t you go getting sick, Link. You start puking and I’m leaving you here, man.”

The loudness of the music adds to his elation, and he feels it bubbling out of him with laughter. He turns to tell Rhett, “I ain’t gonna get sick!”

Rhett’s sober, hasn’t touched a single drop of anything alcoholic, because he’s driving them back to his house later. Momma Di said one o’clock, and Rhett’s never missed his curfew a single time. A glance at a clock hanging on the wall says they’ve got about an hour and ten minutes. He tosses back the rest of his beer and tangles his fist in Rhett’s shirt to pull him along, heading for the kitchen for more beer.

It hits him, when they’re in there, away from most of the people, from most of the noise, that there are only a few minutes until it’s officially 1995. A quick glance at the microwave tells him only eight minutes to go.

“We’re approaching midnight,” he says, pulling another beer from the ice chest in front of the refrigerator.

He hears Rhett chuckle behind him. “Sure are.”

“Why are you being weird?” He pokes him in the chest to drive home the point.

It pulls another laugh from Rhett, but earns him a respective pinch that makes him slosh a bit of beer over his fingers. As he’s licking it up, Rhett says, “I’m just watching you, man. Makin’ sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“What’re you, my _dad_?” The words are out before he even has a second to think about them. They do something weird to his chest, but he swallows down the thought that tries to creep its way out of the recesses of his brain—the one that says ‘Not your dad, but one of the only male figures you have’.

Rhett gets a look on his face, one that he doesn’t do a good job of hiding, and just nudges him in the shoulder instead of saying anything. Link appreciates it, feels his face heating up, and takes another sip of beer so he has somewhere to place false blame if anyone says anything. “Five to midnight,” Rhett says.

“Microwave says seven,” Link argues, but Rhett’s looking down at the watch his dad let him borrow; and Link knows that it’s not wrong, as they both watched him set it based off the watch he’s been wearing ever since Link first met him. “Damn, you always gotta be right?”

He’s joking, and he smiles just to prove it. Rhett just shrugs, teases, “Someone’s gotta be. We both know we can’t count on that being you.”

It’s Link’s turn to nudge him, his shoulder hitting Rhett in the chest. He hasn’t hit a growth spurt in a while, and Rhett’s a full head taller than him already. It’s intimidating in a weird way that makes his stomach twist just a little bit, like he’s falling. It doesn’t make sense, so he swallows that down, too, with another gulp of beer.

He lost count a while ago, doesn’t really know how many he’s had, only that it’s not nearly as many as other people here have. They don’t even know half the people here, and Link knows that means word got out that the twins were having a party without their parents being there. Link’s also not sure who brought the beer, but there’s a lot of it, filling several ice chests around the kitchen.

He’s pretty drunk, just been sort of staring at the people walking around with Rhett at his side, a warmth and steady presence that always makes Link feel better.

They hear the countdown start from everywhere around them. The whole house feels alive with it, feels like it’s growing like the smile on Link’s face. People all around them are grabbing at each other, pressing together in wet kisses that grow with the impending new year.

Link hears Rhett join in for the final five seconds, uses the time to debate a bold move. He watches Rhett’s mouth form the last couple of syllables. He’s gonna do it, he thinks. He feels himself lunging up on his tip-toes, feels his hands itching to reach out and pull him down, see what would happen.

But at the last second, he falls back on his heels, feels reality crashing down around him, and joins in on the cheers that echo through the house, the whoops and hollers that ring in his head long after they’re walking out into the frigid air.

It was silly, but he was gonna kiss Rhett. Which, now that he thinks about it, shouldn’t have even be a thought, but it was.

He loves Rhett, so why shouldn’t he kiss him?

That’s what people do, right? They kiss the people they love. So, Link should kiss Rhett. And Rhett should kiss him back.

He thinks about it again, tells himself he’s gonna do it, while they’re climbing into Rhett’s truck. Somehow, his beer is gone, and Rhett’s clapping someone on the back before he slides into the driver’s seat. As he’s buckling up, he turns to Link, asks, “You alright?”

“Mm-hm,” is all he can get out, brow furrowing while his thoughts flip over and over in his head. One second, his confidence is there, supporting his decision of leaning over and kissing Rhett. But then it’s gone, and he’s left with shaky hands and a sinking feeling in his gut.

He wants to. The truck roars to life around him, and he wants to even more. And it’s not even because he’s drunk, not really. It’s because he loves Rhett. He loves him so much, and he wants Rhett to _know_.

So, he says, “Love you,” and watches Rhett grin gently.

“I love you, too, brother. If you’re gonna hurl, do it out the window, okay?”

That’s wrong, though, so Link says, “You gotta mean it when you say it, bo.”

This time, Rhett’s grin is confused. “I do mean it. I’ll kick your ass if you get sick in my car.”

“Not that, man. Don’t be a jerk.” He shakes his head, feeling it swim a little bit.

“Oh,” Rhett says, and his voice sounds weird. “I do mean it,” he says again.

This time Link believes him, and he feels warm all over, turns his head to look out the window to hide his smile. Rhett would think he was a loser for smiling like a little girl just because he said he loved Link. He watches the trees and houses blur past them.

Rhett doesn’t live too far away, so he knows the ride is going to be over fast. He’s got to make up his mind. His stomach flips over.

By the time they’re pulling up in Rhett’s driveway, quiet as can be so they don’t wake up anyone in the neighborhood, Link still hasn’t made a decision.

He’s still not sure when they’re walking into the house, Rhett whispering, “You wanna sleep in my room or the living room tonight?” over his shoulder to Link.

“Yours.” He doesn’t like sleeping in the living room. There are too many noises, and he never really falls asleep. Rhett nods his head, turning to lock the front door quickly.

Even when they’re stripping out of their clothes, jeans and jackets and t-shirts being left in piles all over the room, Link hasn’t decided what he really wants. He doesn’t think he ever will, at this rate.

But then Rhett is throwing him a pair of sweatpants, and Link watches the muscles of his chest shift while he tugs on a fresh shirt. And he knows, then.

He never does it, never finds the right moment, since Rhett sleeps with his back to Link, and it would be too much to kiss him in his bed, anyway.

But at least now he knows he wants to.

\--

**2.**

_(1999)_

“Knock it off.”

“Oh, come on, Neal,” Gregg is laughing, “Tryin’ to deny your big gay crush on Rhett _now_?”

Link rolls his eyes, shoves at Gregg’s shoulder, feeling his temper rise. He catches a mass of red hair just in time, and says, “Hey, isn’t that Missy?” Gregg’s head turns within a second, and he pats Link on the shoulder, sloshing beer from his plastic cup as he takes off, shouting some half-assed compliment before looping his arm around a slim waist.

“Gregg finally done annoying you?” He spins around at the familiar voice, and grins up at Rhett, whose eyes look heavy. He’s swaying just a little, and Link chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I think so. You wanna go get some fresh air, man? You look like you could use it,” he says, his hand already reaching out to grab at Rhett’s wrist, hold him upright.

Rhett shakes his head. “Nah. This is good.” And then, “Got somebody to kiss at midnight?”

He feels his stomach flutter just a little bit when he shakes his head, shrugs his shoulders. He’d wonder if Rhett does, only he’s pretty sure even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to find her again with how fuzzy he looks.

Rhett tells him, “Me neither.”

“Gregg’s got Missy, so at least we won’t have to worry about him being all stupid,” Link says, flicking his eyes out across the crowd.

They’ve managed to find themselves in the kitchen for most of the night, Rhett having wandered off with a few people earlier while Link was playing beer pong with Gregg only to find his way back right as the last round was over. He’s only had a few drinks, opting to remember the night considering it’s a big one.

It’s the new millennium, in just a few minutes. There’s a nervous, buzzing energy over the whole night, uncertainties littering everything enough to make them all feel it just a little bit too much. Rhett had told him earlier not to worry, gave him a list of reasons not to listen to all the fantastical ideas everyone had about the impending year. Link believes him enough, but there’s still the residual uneasiness that he thinks everyone’s got.

Still, he knows everything is going to be okay. And he wants to welcome in the year feeling clear and levelheaded, safe.

Which is why, when Rhett starts walking, he follows him, falling into step with him. He meanders them through the throngs of people easily despite his state, until they’re outside, the cool, clean air hitting Link like a freight train.

Rhett turns and catches him shivering. “Want my jacket? I’m feeling pretty warm.” He’s already taking it off, sliding his arms out a little clumsily.

“Oh,” Link says softly, not realizing he’d been caught. “Sure. Yeah, thanks, brother.”

 When Rhett gets drunk, it’s always something different. Link never really knows what to expect, whether he’s going to be loud and sloppy, hungry for human contact and wanting to be the center of attention, or if he’s going to be more subdued, calm and in his head, if a little choppy and slow, like he is tonight. They’ve spent many nights drinking, one of them always ending up needing to be the arm holding the other up while they stumbled their way through the threshold, into their dorm.

Tonight, Rhett’s quiet but happy, and Link is glad for it. He doesn’t think he’d be enjoying himself if he were spending tonight watching Rhett one-up everyone, draw focus when he didn’t really need to. Then again, Link thinks, Rhett always pulls focus. Even now, he sees people turning their heads to look at him, if only for a second, and he feels a flare in his stomach, the unfamiliar taste of jealousy hitting the back of his tongue.

Maybe it’s the air of the night, or the softness in Rhett’s eyes when he watches Link put on his jacket, but he feels a wave of anger wash through him that only lasts a quick second. He tells himself it’s because Rhett’s his best friend in the whole world, and nothing else. That’s the only reason he doesn’t want everyone staring at him like he’s some sort of coveted treasure, something they can take away from him.

“What was Gregg saying about a big gay crush earlier?” Rhett asks, once they’re walking again.

Link’s got his fists stuffed into the pockets of the jacket, eyes watching the ground in front of him, using shadows to dodge all the drunk bodies around them. He shrugs. “He wants to suck your dick, I think.”

Rhett laughs, loud and clear, and Link feels himself laugh, too. “Gross. Like I’d let him do that.”

“I don’t know man, he’d probably be great at it.” The joke is too far, but Rhett laughs even harder, so Link doesn’t dwell on the shame that burns heavily in him for making it.

“Lots of practice, right?” Rhett says, and Link nods, shrugs his shoulders.

“Look, I ain’t judging the man,” Link says.

“Nah, me neither. Just sayin’ I’ve got standards,” Rhett teases. “And I know where he’s put that mouth, so he ain’t getting _near_ my dick with it.”

“Of course,” Link agrees, chuckling. “Should let him know that before he gets his hopes up.”

Rhett hums, laughing softly. “I don’t know, he’ll be awfully heartbroken.”

“Well,” Link says, playing along. “I mean, who wouldn’t, right?”

He doesn’t get a laugh in return this time. Instead, Rhett turns to look at him, eyes a little wide. He starts, “Hey—“

 And he gets cut off, the sharp sound of someone whistling, shouting the start of the countdown. Of course Rhett joins in, nudging Link with his elbow, smile bright, eyes glossy. Link joins in, too, watching Rhett the whole time, and feeling himself smile.

It feels like the countdown takes forever, way longer than ten seconds, before there are sparklers and firecrackers and glass being broken all around them, cheers and shouts, and people making out with sloppy smiles on their faces. In the extra time, the urge to lean up and kiss Rhett creeps its way in. He wonders what it would be like, if his mouth would be soft and warm, if he’d taste like the cheap beer he’s been drinking all night. Would it feel like a regret or a release? Would he pull Link closer, reciprocate with that same bright smile he’s wearing now? 

 Link feels his chest go tight, feels Rhett clap him on the back with a loud shout of laughter.

“Happy New Year!” Rhett tells him, smile wide and happy.

“Happy New Year, brother,” Link says, returning the grin.

He feels the thickness fade, lets the tension in his shoulders fall, and gives in when Rhett starts tugging at him, pulling him in the direction of their building. He’s talking, saying something about the new year, about what this means, what everyone is scared of, but Link doesn’t really hear him.

He can’t hear much outside the ringing in his ears.

\--

**3.**

_(2009)_

The music is loud.

He’s not very sure exactly where in the house he is at this point, or where Rhett is, for that matter. It’s been hectic since the moment they walked through the doors, greeted by familiar faces that were shoving drinks in their hands and pressing wet kisses to their cheeks.

Their newfound pseudo-fame that’s being shared amongst everyone under this roof is still a shaky feeling for them, and they agreed beforehand that they wouldn’t get too over their heads tonight. They hadn’t even expected to be invited, so once they were, they became determined not to tarnish their names this early on into the game.

Link’s already seen some things that made him raise his eyebrows, but it’s not like he hadn’t braced himself for it. Maybe it’s because he’s still a big jetlagged, or maybe it’s the alcohol making him a little fuzzy. Regardless, he feels out of place, just a little.

He manages to find Rhett trying his best to detach himself from a group of young girls, all of whom look way drunker than they should be this early into the night. With mild amusement, he stands off to the side and watches Rhett gently push manicured hands away from his chest, his arms, his own hands.

He only draws Rhett’s attention when he lets out a loud laugh, shaking his head and coming up to his side when he gets cut a pair of intense eyes. “Hey, man,” Link says, and he gets his own attention from the girls.

They manage to tear themselves away with quick explanations that they made promises to go talk to someone on the other end of the house, that they’ve got to go but it was nice talking with them. Rhett gets slipped a phone number that he tucks into a random pocket as they’re walking through the house.

“Gosh,” he says. “Those girls could talk.

“Looked like it, man,” Link laughs. “At least you know you’ve still got game.”

Rhett tosses back his head in a loud laugh. “Wasn’t ever a question, brother.”

Jokingly, Link sends him a wary look, and dodges the pinch he reaches out to lay on him. They walk without really having a destination in mind, taking in the bustle of the party, the way everyone is already pulling each other close for intimacy that is notoriously reserved for the last ten seconds of the year. Link does his best not to look, but he’s never been good at that sort of stuff.

Rhett nudges him with his shoulder in an achingly familiar move, and Link returns it with a, “What?”

“Missin’ Christy?” he asks with a grin, and Link feels his cheeks heat up.

He’s supposed to say yes, because he does. Of course he does; she’s his wife, and he loves her more than he’s ever loved anyone.

It wasn’t long, blond curls that he was picturing running his fingers through, though, wasn’t her plump, cherry red lips he pictured kissing.

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing down whatever else threatens to come up. “Yeah, of course I am. You miss Jess?”

“Of course,” Rhett mirrors. Link wants to ask him about the grin on his face, but he bites that down, too. There are too many doors they could open, too sensitive of an area to be prodding at, and Link reminds himself that he won’t be kissing anybody tonight.

“I guess it’s just weird seeing so many people. It’s been since college that we’ve been to a party like this,” Link tells him, shrugging his shoulders. Rhett nods his understanding. “Ain’t no harm in looking.”

“No.” He gets tugged into a less crowded room, one that’s got a staircase off in the corner. “I think there’s a balcony up there.”

“Let’s go find out,” Link says, making his way over without bothering to check if Rhett’s following him. He hadn’t realized it until Rhett mentioned the idea of it, but he could use some fresh air. Something about these sorts of parties leaves him feeling too much, like his emotions are all sitting on his chest. There always seems to be a reminder of his own follies.

The air is warmer than they’re used to, California heat seeping its way into the holidays, and Link relishes it just a little bit. It feels good, makes him feel a little less weighted somehow.

The view is nice, looking out onto the yard below, people milling about, talking loudly. If he tries, he can focus on a single conversation. It lets him know to keep his voice down.

He hears Rhett hum beside him, feels him come up and press just a little too close. It’s not uncomfortable, and Link closes his eyes for just a second. When he opens them again, Rhett is moving, until he’s leaning against the flimsy-looking railing, craning his head to get more of the scenery.

“How long til midnight?” he asks, and Link instantly pulls out his phone, ignores the couple of missed calls he has so they don’t eat at him all night, and notices they only have a couple minutes.

“Two minutes,” he says, and Rhett turns his head to look at him over his shoulder. He lets him stare for a few seconds, before he grows uneasy and says, “What?”

Rhett shrugs. “Nothing.”

“What’re you looking at me for?”

Rhett’s grin turns dangerous, and Link knows he’s had too much to drink when his stomach flips at the sight.

“Just admiring the view, is all,” Rhett finally answers, and Link feels his cheeks grow warm. The laugh he lets out is nervous, embarrassed, and Rhett chuckles a little self-depreciatingly. “You look good tonight.”

“Thanks, man. You, uh- You do, too.” And he _does_. Now that the dam is broken, the onslaught of thoughts he’s kept at bay all night tonight bubble up inside him. He feels like he’s been given permission to really look, really take him in, and he uses it. “Really.”

There’s an insane second where he feels them sort of gravitating towards each other, a pull on the tether that they only tug at playfully. He lets it fall loose again, deciding to move to stand next to Rhett instead, leaning on the railing similarly.

He hears Rhett sigh, and doesn’t read into it. He can’t afford to slip up tonight, not right now. So, he checks his phone one more time, sees the clock change from one day to the next, and bumps into Rhett in time with the cheers and shouts from all around the house, outside in the yard.

Rhett smiles at him, bumps him back.

“Happy New Year, Link.”

\--

**4.**

_(2014)_

The studio is alive, wall-to-wall with friends and coworkers, and Link watches them all as the night draws out.

Christy and Jessie both left earlier, taking the kids back home to put the little ones to bed, and light a fire in the fireplace for the older ones. He and Rhett would be sleeping at the office, their bags stocked with toothbrushes and clothes for in the morning, to avoid the trouble of trying to get a safe ride home. They’d extended the offer to everyone here, too, just to be safe.

He’s just watching for now, letting the drink he’s been nursing settle carefully before he thinks about going get another. At this point in his life, the appeal of getting drunk just isn’t there, but he’s thinking about doing it tonight just for the novelty of it.

It’s been a good night, full of laughs and cheers and too many pictures. Rhett’s somewhere, playing some drinking game Eddie had tried to cajole Link into playing too. He’d denied the offer, opting to watch the first few rounds before getting called to come do karaoke with Stevie for a while. But now, he’s content just wandering.

The whiskey in his glass is making him feel nostalgic, and he uses the time to separate from the crowd, walk down the dark halls and take it all in. It’s really something else, this studio.

It’s everything they worked for, everything they’ve ever wanted. He’s proud of them. He’s proud of himself, and at thirty-six years old, that’s a damn good feeling.

As he gets deeper into the building, hitting the kitchen and the offices, the music fades until it’s just a thumping bass tingling in his fingertips. He won’t get emotional, vows not to let himself, but looking around at everything reminds him of a lot.

It reminds him of when he and Rhett were young, just little kids sitting in Link’s room with a tape recorder, innocence bleeding into everything they did. And then when they were older, performing for friends and family, getting that shot of adrenaline and promising each other they’d do something one day.

_“Here we are,”_ he thinks. _“We did something.”_

They did a whole lot of something, too, and he’s so _proud_ of it.

“Was wondering where you wandered off to.”

He’s almost startled, whirls around to look at Rhett, almost spilling whiskey on himself in the process. Rhett’s smile is bright and happy, and he steps close, pulls Link into a sweaty hug.

“You smell so bad, man,” Link laughs, but returns the embrace regardless.

“That’s the smell of victory,” he gets told, and Rhett’s pressing a big, wet kiss to his forehead before letting him go.

“Eddie didn’t take the loss too hard, did he?” He pokes Rhett in the side just to watch him squirm, takes a precarious sip of his drink. “I told you to take it easy on the children.”

Rhett hums, deep in his chest, and sends a toothy smile Link’s way. “He’ll be okay, once the hangover is over.”

“Yeah, I could probably say the same about you,” Link murmurs, watching the way Rhett sways, how his eyes don’t stay focused on any one thing. He gets a laugh in response, and then he’s being pulled back down the hall.

Rhett says, “Quit being antisocial. I promised Stevie I’d get you to come sing _Endless Love_ with me.”

“No, come on, man,” Link groans. He’s sung enough tonight, wants to just _be_ for a second. “No more karaoke, not tonight.”

They stop walking, then, and Rhett turns to look at him. “You okay?”

They’re in the hall, their office to the left, the kitchen somewhere to the right. It’s still ducked off enough that he feels comfortable saying, “Yeah, just. Sorta overwhelmed. Whiskey always makes me a little disoriented.”

“Whiskey makes you sad, you mean,” Rhett says, and yeah, he’s right. He’s not laughing now, but he’s still got a glint in his eye. “Only after a lot, though. How much have you had?”

Link shrugs. “A lot.”

He laughs now, and Link joins him for a second. “I’m not sad,” Link clarifies. “Not quite yet, anyway. I’m just—I’m taking it all in.”

“Taking what in?” There’s no accusation, no mocking, just genuine curiosity in his voice, and Link melts just a little bit at it.

The music is louder here, but despite it, he still feels secure, safe and warm and away from where everything is too loud, too much. “I don’t know. Just—this, you know? It’s been a good year for us.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” That smile is back, and it’s like a balm, soothing the weird achy feeling in Link’s chest. It’s as though he wasn’t sure if Rhett felt the same way, if they were on the same page with all of this. Affirmation is a sweet realization that it’s okay for him to get emotional about this.

“You gonna finally kiss me at midnight, Neal?”

Link laughs, and it comes out a little hysterical. And while Rhett’s still smiling, it’s sweet and serious, his big hand coming out to cup Link’s cheek. “What?” he asks, high-pitched and shocked.

“All these years, and you’ve never kissed me at midnight.” He cocks his head, furrows his brow, and Link can almost hear him thinking.

“You’re drunk, buddyroll,” he says softly, his own hand coming up to pat Rhett’s.

“Mm, not that drunk,” Rhett tells him. “You’re drunk, too, _buddyroll_.”

Link breathes out a laugh. “Not that drunk.”

“Next year, then,” Rhett murmurs, his thumb pressing into Link’s bottom lip for just a second before he’s pulling away.

They go back to the party.

They sing _Endless Love_.

\--

**+5.**

_(2016)_

He’s drunk.

Very, blissfully drunk. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to get like this, uncaring of how he looks or comes across or if he’s being too loud, leaning in a little too much. Everyone is warm and nice, and he’s kissed everyone at least once, just on the cheek, thanked them wholeheartedly for everything they’ve done this year.

They’ve worked hard— _damn_ hard. And tonight, they’re going to celebrate that. Tonight is about being happy, starting a new year of working just as hard, being the best that they can be.

He’s got an eye on Rhett, kept his tabs on him all night, because he wants to be able to sneak up on him whenever he wants. From where he’s standing, condensation of his drink dripping down the sides of his fingers, he can watch Rhett talk with Eddie, laughing heartily at whatever they’re discussing. He looks good—tall and lean and golden.

He sees his moment, when their conversation falters, so he pushes himself off the counter, steadies his steps and sidles up next to Rhett. For his effort, he gets a smile and a hand on his shoulder.

“Feeling good?” Rhett asks, eyes glittering with a smile.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Link tells him, nodding his head. “How about you? You feel good?”

“I feel great,” Rhett says. He nods at Eddie, who smiles and takes his leave after fist-bumping Link happily.

“You look good tonight,” he says, hearing his words slur just a little, his accent thick and heavy. “Real good. Jessie get a good look at you before you left?”

Rhett just laughs at him, shakes his head before pressing his palm onto the curve of Link’s spine. His hand is warm and big, and it centers Link just a little bit, that nervous energy finding a pulse point to localize. “She did,” Rhett says. “Helped me pick out my tie.”

Link turns to look at it. It’s a deep purple, matching the thin stripes on his shirt. He’s dressed sharply, his suit getting soft with wrinkles as the night goes on. He thumbs the bottom of the tie, wraps it around his fingers and tugs just a little. “Good choice.”

They’d both dressed up, but Link ditched his jacket earlier in the night, lost it somewhere in the office. Still, Rhett’s eyes dance over the line of him, and he says, “You don’t look half bad yourself, Neal.”

Link smiles up at him, can’t help the way he lights up with it. He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol anymore, but if someone were to ask him, at least he’d have the excuse.

He lets go of Rhett’s tie, smoothes it out for him while he clears his throat with a laugh. “What’re you trying to butter me up for, boy?”

“I can’t compliment you without there being some ulterior motive?” The hand on his spine pushes with just enough pressure to get his point across, and Link allows himself to be guided through the halls.

He says, “See, now I’m definitely suspicious.”

Rhett chuckles warmly, and offers no further explanation as he grabs a bottle of champagne off the drink table, one that’s already missing a glass or two, and the hand on his back slides away to grab a couple of flutes. He mourns the loss for just a second, and follows Rhett when he starts walking.

They make it to the office, quiet and tucked away from everyone, and Rhett opens the door for him, stepping away to let Link walk in first. It’s a familiar place, like a second home at this point, but as soon as Rhett closes the door behind himself, something shifts.

They’ve got obligations to be out in the crowd at midnight, to give a toast when the clock strikes, but Link knows they have a little bit of time to slip away, be alone. Still, he teases, “We’re gonna miss midnight, and then it’s your responsibility to tell everyone why.”

“I won’t let you miss midnight,” Rhett says, grinning at him while he uncorks the champagne.  “I only want you to myself for a little while.”

“Greedy boy,” Link comments, eyeing Rhett carefully. This dance is just as familiar as the office, the teasing, the looks, but the air is different, somehow.

Rhett hands him a flute, half-full of bubbly champagne, and smiles at him. “Can you blame me?”

With a smile, Link raises his glass for the inevitable toast. The hum of the building is muffled in here, the closed door blocking the sound. It feels nice to be secluded for just a second, for it to just be them, their own little celebration for the end of this long, hard year.

“What do we toast to?” Rhett asks, biting his bottom lip.

“To us. To this,” Link insists. “To eating gross shit and making people smile.”

“To _you_ ,” Rhett settles on, clinking their glasses together.

Link feels a laugh bubble out of him, giddy and emotional, and he mirrors, “To you.”

Neither one of them like champagne, but they both drain their glasses for the hell of it. Rhett takes Link’s out of his hand when he’s done, puts it on the coffee table with his own.

“’S been a good year, yeah?” He’s had a lot to drink, feels it in his movements, in his lips, in the way his heart stutters every time Rhett looks at him.

The thing is, this is routine for him. Something about the holidays brings about nostalgia, this feeling of closeness with Rhett that he can’t quite explain. Maybe it’s sentiments, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the idea of the culmination of an era. Each year, they accomplish something new, they reach a goal. It’s so rewarding, and he’s so proud that he gets to stand next to this man and create what they’ve created. And when they get to sit back and celebrate it all, he realizes how proud of them he is, how honored he is that he gets to stand next to this larger-than-life man and do the things they do.

“Would you kiss me if I asked you to?”

The question hits him square in the chest, leaves him sucking in a sharp breath and looking anywhere but Rhett’s eyes. When he exhales, it’s to bite his lip and say, “Probably.”

Rhett chuckles, hand coming up to tilt Link’s head up, catching his eyes in an intense stare. “All these years,” he murmurs, and Link is reminded of the same night a couple of years ago, an empty promise he never kept, “all this time of you lookin’ at me like you’re going to finally do something—and all I get is a ‘probably’?”

“Well, damn, Rhett,” Link stammers. “I mean, you just spring a question like that on a man.”

He shrugs his shoulders, grin growing wider. “You broke your promise last year. Don’t you think you owe me this year?”

He doesn’t say anything. But he does reach out to tangle his fingers in Rhett’s tie again, tugging him down until he can feel the coarse, wispy hairs of his beard on his own face. The laugh that bubbles out of him is soft, nervous.

When their lips touch, he swears the universe stops spinning.

He’s been waiting twelve years for this. He’s been wondering for twelve years what would happen if they did this. And, his answer is that the entire universe stopped spinning. The world around them fades out and all Link can hear or feel is Rhett, the low moan he lets out. He tastes like champagne, and it just makes Link lick past the seam of his lips, chase that taste away until he gets to Rhett underneath it all.

Rhett’s hands land on his hips, big and warm, his fingers splaying over the expanse of him easily. He feels Rhett’s teeth scrape over his bottom lip, and it makes him hiss, pull away. “No biting,” he says, and dives in to muffle the chuckles Rhett lets out.

The fingers on his hips squeeze hard, digging in a little painfully, and he pulls away again. “Gosh, could you quit hurtin’ me, man? I’m trying to enjoy this.”

“Come here, I’ll make it up to you, baby,” Rhett promises, his voice deep and ruined just a little, just from this. It warms through him, and Link lets him pull him in for more.

It’s good, and he wants to do it forever, wants to feel like this for the rest of his life. He thinks he can, as long as Rhett lets him do this again. As long as Rhett _wants_ to do this again.

He only pulls away again when Rhett starts guiding them backwards, towards the chair. It’s not big enough for both of them, but Link doesn’t care enough to protest when he’s being manhandled into Rhett’s lap. His thighs burn with the stretch of having to spread far enough to straddle Rhett’s.

It’s a tight fit, but he doesn’t care, and Rhett doesn’t seem to, either. His grin is predatory, and his fingers are biting at Link’s hips again. Link doesn’t find the strength in him to say anything this time, can’t find much else in him other than the desire to bend down and kiss that smirk right off Rhett’s face. The position has his head swimming, so he’s blaming his eagerness on that when he swoops down and captures Rhett’s lips with his own.

His own hands find their way to Rhett’s hair, sliding in carefully while he tilts his head back, takes control like he’s so used to. The lips under his own are softer than he thought, and Rhett hands over the reins easily. This close, Rhett smells like the outdoors and a little bit like roses. Link opens his eyes to see the freckles, the crows-feet, all the years he’s known Rhett— _loved_ Rhett—etched onto his face beautifully.

He closes them again and really takes in the sensation of Rhett’s tongue on his own, the soft, gentle kisses turning wet and deep. It pulls a sound from him, one that almost embarrasses him, would have, had Rhett’s hips not bucked up the second it tumbled out of him. Link only barely registers his own chasing the feeling.

Rhett’s hands ease their way down Link’s back until his fingers are tucked in the waistband of his pants. Without even thinking about it, or really even knowing what he’s asking for at this point, Link presses back into the feeling.

This time, when he pulls apart, it’s to press his thumb to Rhett’s bottom lip, and ask, “What are we doing?”

“Whatever we want,” Rhett tells him, and sucks Link’s thumb into his mouth, teeth scraping over the pad. Link pushes it in further, watches Rhett open up around him, letting him push down until his mouth is wide open.

“What do we want, Rhett?” He pulls his fingers away, cards them through Rhett’s hair again, palms resting on his cheeks.

In answer, his hips press up, hands pulling Link down until they’re pressed together. Link rocks against him. “This. Just like this, baby,” Rhett says.

“We gotta be quick about it,” Link tells him, leaning down to press their mouths together again.

He feels so good, encased in this moment, floating along nicely. Rhett’s hard and sweet against him, hands sliding down the back of his pants again, until he gets to the meaty part of Link’s ass. The leverage it gives him makes things speed up, and Link gasps against the pressure on him.

“Gosh,” he groans, when Rhett’s hips move languidly, his hands squeezing at Link just on the edge of too hard.

He hears Rhett moan, feels it rumbling through him. “We should—“ he starts, losing his words when Rhett bites at his bottom lip again. It’s good, this time, so good, and maybe it has to do with the feeling of Rhett pressed so close to him, how his hips don’t stop working up, dragging sweet pleasure up Link’s whole spine.

Their cocks are lined up just right, and when he tilts Rhett’s head back again, mouths at his jaw this time, he gets rewarded with a loud, visceral moan and a rough palming of his ass, hips jerking up hard, grinding against Link perfectly.

“So good, Link,” Rhett pants. And when Link scrapes his teeth down his neck, “Oh, gosh.” When he finds his pulse and sucks a mark over it, “ _Fuck_.”

Each time, he’s met with Rhett’s hips rolling up into his own, his big hands holding him down. It’s what he wanted to hear, how he wanted Rhett to fall apart for him, so he does it again, down the other side, fingers moving down to dance along his sides softly, pulling out as many sounds as he can.

Rhett’s movements get sloppy, stutter and falter, and Link takes over again, sitting up tall when Rhett chokes out another, “Fuck, Link.”

He rocks down against him, planting his hands on Rhett’s chest, fingers finding his nipples under his shirt. When Rhett moans thickly, he says, “Yeah, baby.”

All he can focus on is Rhett, the way he’s falling apart, how he feels underneath him. The hard press of his body along Links is exactly what he’s been craving, touch-starved all this time and he didn’t even know it. Now that he’s got it, got _Rhett_ , he’s never felt better.

“You gonna come, bo?” Link asks, and gets a high-pitched whine in an answer. Rhett nods his head, head leaning against the chair, eyes heavy but watching Link’s every move. His chest heaves under Link’s hands.

“God,” he sobs, his hips canting up to meet Link’s.

Link feels himself start to falter, feels the familiar twist in his stomach, and he groans, leaning down to slot their mouths together again. He sneaks a hand down, palms at Rhett, swallowing down the desperate sound he lets out, shivering at the feeling of his hips stuttering up a couple more times.

When Rhett comes, he pulls away, hands moving from Link’s ass to his thighs, pulling him closer to work himself through the aftershocks. It only takes a second before he’s returning the favor for Link, huge palm pressing against his cock.

He comes like that, mouth opening around a gasp, a mumbled, “Shit, Rhett.” His whole body thrums, working through the feeling of his orgasm, and Rhett keeps his hand there while they work through the feeling together.

Link can’t really feel his legs, can’t feel much of anything other than the shivery feeling of pleasure still rolling through him. By the time Rhett is pulling away, letting Link sit back and get his bearings, he can feel exactly how sticky the situation they just got themselves into is.

“Well, that’s one way to end the year,” Rhett chuckles.

Link squeezes his legs around him with a soft laugh. “I don’t think I’ve come in my pants since before I got married.”

Rhett grimaces in sympathy, and says, “Ditto, brother.”

“We have a party to get back to.” They should get up, should make themselves presentable again and head back to their guests they’ve abandoned. And even though Rhett murmurs his agreement, neither of them make any moves to get up and start the process.

Instead, Rhett grins and slides his hand up Link’s thigh, cupping over his sensitive cock. With a hiss, Link slaps his hand away. “Too much,” he scolds.

“Mm,” Rhett grunts, “’S good.”

“Come on,” Link sighs, easing himself off of Rhett’s lap. “I’ll let you help me clean up.”

It doesn’t take them long, but it takes longer than it should since Rhett can’t keep his hands off Link, and Link’s still just a little drunk, a little clumsy.

By the time they’re presentable, ready to ease back into the crowd, they’ve barely got enough time to make a toast, raise their glasses with everyone. The countdown starts, and there’s a TV with the ball drop playing in the corner.

When it falls, and the clock turns over, Rhett bumps into Link, tells him, “Happy New Year.”

Link smiles up at him, swallows down the sudden lump in his throat. “Right back at you. Let’s make this one a good one, yeah?”

Rhett winks at him. “They’re all pretty good with you, brother.”


End file.
